Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“So, anyway, next weekend is my birthday (the big 2-9!) and my mom’s letting me use our house in the Hamptons to celebrate. I’m gonna invite a bunch of friends and I really want you to come. No drama. Just FUN FUN FUN! It would be the best birthday present EVER if you’d come and hang out (and hopefully make me scream again!! Heehee!).
“I know how much you like my ‘pretty titties’ (LOL!) so I’m attaching a special pic just for you. It’s just a little something to tide you over ’til you can come see them in person (and motorboat them again if you want! LMFAO!). Thanks again for explaining everything to me when we talked. We’re defo on the same page. No relationship. Nothing serious. I’m totally down with that plan. XOXOXOXO Jen.”
I have never felt this capable of murder in my entire life.
Holy I Wanna Beat the Living Shit Out of Her, Batman.
And Then I Wanna Cut Off His Balls and Roast Them Over the Burning Embers of His Fucking House, Batman. And Then I Want To Eat Them In Between Two Graham Crackers.
I’m gritting my teeth so hard, they’re about to crumble like shards of bleu cheese in my mouth. I’m ‘The Jealous Bitch,’ huh? Did Jen coin that cute little nickname for me, or did Josh help her come up with it—perhaps during their after-party phone conversation? Was that phone conversation when Josh “suggested” they get together again so he could “motorboat” Jen’s “pretty titties” again?
Why the hell did Josh call Jen after Reed’s party? He told me he wasn’t the least bit interested in her. Did he rush back to his room for a little phone sex after washing the barf off his shoes and my hair and putting me to bed?
I should click out of this email, I really should—that would be the self-preserving thing to do—but instead I torture myself and click on the first photo attached to Jen’s email.
I shriek.
What the holy hell? Jen’s mom is Gabrielle LeMonde? I blink rapidly, my brain overloading. Gabrielle LeMonde is a national treasure—an icon! I’ve seen every one of her frickin’ movies—and not just the comedies, either!—the really boring ones in which she spoke in a spot-on British accent, too! What. The. Hell?
Well, this sure sheds light on why Josh hooked up with Jen in the first place. If I were a twenty-three-year-old guy with a huge dick, I’d have fucked Gabrielle LeMonde’s daughter too, just to be able to say I did—especially if she had a body like Jen’s. And Jesus, now it makes total sense that Jen pals around with movie stars like Isabel Randolph. Good lord, Jen’s entire contacts list must be a who’s-who of Hollywood’s young elite.
My head is spinning. I feel like I’m gonna barf. It’s suddenly hitting me like a ton of bricks that Josh is literally one of the world’s most eligible bachelors—like literally. Holy shit. Before this moment, Josh was Sarah’s boyfriend’s brother—his gorgeous and rich brother—his hilarious and well-dressed brother—his smoking hot and sexy brother—his brother who arranged for me to stay in Vegas and keep my job, too—his brother who fucked me so brilliantly, I blacked out there for a minute—but, still, just a human-brother-dude who presumably puts his pants on one leg at a time (and who presumably stows his donkey-dick in one of those pant legs before zipping up).
But now, out of nowhere, it turns out Josh is some quasi-celebrity-god among men who lives in an alternate universe populated by world-famous actresses and their spawn? And Victoria’s Secret supermodels? Oh, and freaking Red Card Riot, too? What the heck? Who is this Most Interesting Man in the World who could hop a cross-country flight on a whim for no other reason than to attend the birthday party of a fuck-buddy who happens to be the daughter of Gabrielle LeMonde? Gah! Insanity.
My stomach flips over.
I’m usually a confident girl—probably more so than the average Jane, if I’m being honest—but how could I ever be so cocky as to think a guy like that would ever pick me out of literally anyone on the planet to choose from? I roll my eyes even though I’m sitting here alone. I’ve always had a pretty high opinion of myself, truthfully (which isn’t something I usually admit out loud), but all of a sudden, in comparison to the women who populate Josh’s rarified world, I feel shockingly average. Not to mention, quite possibly, really gullible, too. Has Josh just been selling me a line of bullshit? Does he make every girl feel special the way I’ve been feeling with him? Have I been a fool?
Oh, jeez, my eyes are filling with tears. Why do I suddenly feel like I’m standing at Garrett Bennett’s door all over again, about to get annihilated? I take a deep breath to steady myself.